


Torn

by EtherealEnigma



Category: Captain Marvel (Marvel Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Grief, I don't know, I need more Yonvers family life, Loss, Yonvers - Freeform, almost, almost Avengers Infinity War and Endgame compliant, fuck thanos, some fluff?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:55:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22522108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EtherealEnigma/pseuds/EtherealEnigma
Summary: Seven sleepless months.Thirty-one messy weeks.Nine hundred thirty trying days.Twenty-two thousand three hundred twenty blissful hours.One million three hundred thirty-nine thousand two hundred perfect seconds.That’s how long Una had been in their lives before Thanos snapped his fingers.
Relationships: Carol Danvers and Yon-Rogg and Una-Rogg, Carol Danvers/Yon-Rogg
Comments: 16
Kudos: 57





	1. Torn

**Author's Note:**

> So I forgot that Xandar was decimated by Thanos in Infinity War so we're all just gonna ignore that happened, okay? Okay.

They had been on Xandar when it happened. The Nova Prime insisted on a proper christening ceremony, one befitting of a child born to star-powered defender and a _true, redeemed_ noble warrior hero who had served her planet ten times over. Initially, Carol and Yon-Rogg had both argued that such a thing wasn’t necessary. A large, stuffy event such as a Christening Ceremony, or a Warrior’s Blessing Ceremony to the Kree, seemed far too elitist to them. Nonetheless, Irani refused to concede to their bashful nature. Ever the strategist, she _not so subtly_ hinted that the Head of Xandarian Architectural Design was planning to gift them a roomy, fully furnished loft in the Bolide District as congratulations. During the pregnancy, it had quickly become abundantly clear that staying on the ship was not going to cut it as the tiny quarters became more of a nuisance than a cozy quirk. Now that they had a daughter, Yon and Carol had both agreed that they needed a stable, permanent home to raise her. The Bolide District was suggested by Yon for its superior educational facilities and safety features and Carol quickly seconded the motion after discovering there was recreational air space in the neighborhood with a junior aviation program. Due to its flawless reputation, however, occupants readily moved in and rarely moved out so finding a vacant space was a near-impossible feat. Mentioning it to Irani had given her leverage to swoop in and seal the deal, a mixed blessing. 

The event had been a far more humble and quaint affair than the couple had expected. Una had been swaddled in a traditional Kree Blessing Blanket of blue silk. Usually, it would have the family’s house crest delicately embroidered on it. Instead, it was their corresponding gold stars interlocked, outlined in red thread detailed on the fabric. Thankfully, the guest of honor had stayed silent and docile even as the head of the Nova Corps painted the Kree glyph for fruitful on her forehead. Only a gurgled giggle escaped her as Irani wrote fulfillment and happiness on each of her chubby cheeks. After the ceremony ended, a small party was held with food and drinks from across the universe. Congratulations and gifts aplenty were given to the new family and as expected, they had been gifted the home in Bolide. 

The loft was perfect in every way. It was homey and completely up to date with the latest styles and technology. They both agreed that the nursery was by far the best part. It was a soft crimson and gold theme and filled to the brim with books and toys, including some that had been modeled after Carol. Captain Marvel quickly became a popular icon in the hearts of all species across the galaxy and that included Xandarian children. Yon had playfully picked up an action figure of her and commented that it had better form than she did. After settling Una into her pastel yellow crib, they laid together and dreamed of tomorrow: Yon had mentioned he saw a gym down the street that could become _their_ family gym and Carol described the idea of feeding the Gamma Ducks at the local pond together as she had done at Jamaica Pond in Boston. They had gone to bed hopeful and excited for the future.

Then the shrill ring of the pager ripped through their serenity like a knife. 

Carol had almost leaped out of bed; she knew what that sound meant and it was _nothing_ good. After jumping into her suit, she went to check in on Una one last time before she left. As Yon followed in delayed pursuit, a piercing screech punctured the air. When he ran into the room to see what was the matter, his heart dropped to his stomach as he saw Carol gripping the bars of the _empty_ crib.

Una was gone. 

* * *

They knew the events that triggered the pager notification and Una’s absence had to be connected so they had frantically traveled to Earth. They naively allowed themselves to hold out hope that this could be fixed, that Una would be back in their arms before they knew it: when they retrieved the Milano from the blank, empty cosmos, when the Avengers recounted the tale of the fight they had lost so _stupendously_ , even as they boarded the ship to hunt down the Mad Titan in so-called _paradise,_ they had hope that this was reversible.

The last minuscule fragments Yon-Rogg had of that died when Carol reboarded the ship with the rest of the Avengers and vetoed piloting with Rocket. 

* * *

As Yon-Rogg lays next to Carol in a bed that is not their own, be that the cramped compact mattress on their ship or the soft, new one in their short-lived family home, he can’t tell how long he’s been staring at the single black tile on the ceiling. He feels the sliver of space between himself and Carol like is it’s a bottomless chasm: a pit of infinite, unknown despair and grief that they both were teetering on the edge of, on the cusp of toppling in and never being able to pull themselves out. Carol’s breathing is quiet as she lays on her side facing away from him; deciphering if she is asleep is difficult. Yon-Rogg doesn’t want to impede on her mourning, but eventually, he just can’t keep himself from checking on her. He’s not sure who he’s doing it for more, Carol or himself. He rolls on his side, gently touching her arm.

“Carol, I -” he begins, but he stops when he notices her body shaking. It’s so subtle that it almost doesn’t register with him that she’s moving at all, but her shoulders that are always back and proud are concaved and stuttering, a dead give away. Yon hauls himself onto one arm for leverage so he can see her in her entirety. It’s only then he realizes that her soft breaths hadn’t been breaths at all.

They had been sobs.

Carol’s hands were over her mouth as if she was trying to manually smoother her helpless, broken cries. Her eyes were tightly clamped shut and tear stains covered the sheet below her head. 

“Oh, Carol..” Yon comforts as he turns her towards him. Her eyes open and they are wild, but not with the adventure and wit he loves, but _terror,_ _pain,_ and _panic_. It takes Carol a few beats until she meets his eyes and realizes that it’s _him_ and that he’s _here_.

“I’m sorry, I just - I don’t -” she tries before he grabs and pulls her to him. All at once, it just engulfs them like a brushfire, aggressive and swift: the grief, the anger, the loss, _everything._ Carol’s once muted sobs become sharp wails as she holds Onto him like he’s the only thing tethering her to sanity. He cradles her and buries his face into her tresses, crying softly. Eventually, Carol’s wails become whimpers and whimpers become hiccuped gulps of air and she just goes limp, like a cruiser chugging out of gas. 

* * *

  
  


“You have to eat,” Yon nudges.

Carol had taken vigil within the gray sheets of their bed since they had returned. Initially, he didn’t push. He understood her need to mourn the way she needed. Although the bond between any mother and child is special, the bond between a _Kree_ mother and child is like an extension of their very soul. When the time they share as one being ends, they give their child a piece of themselves for the rest of their lives. To lose such a connection, especially during the infancy stage when this physical bond buds into an emotional one, is an complete devastation. But then one day became two and two became three. By the fourth day, Yon couldn’t stand aside anymore. She was wasting away in a dark room, barely recognizable. He had already lost his daughter, he couldn’t lose _Carol_ too. So he picked himself and went back to his training:

_‘Breath and separate yourself; don’t let your emotions cloud your judgment and your mission.’_

Because he was on a mission wasn’t he?

With the help of Steve, he had been able to muster up some of her favorite foods. Yon had always joked that she ate like a toddler. If it was up to her, she would survive on only Shi’ar Creams and Floran Tofae Bars. On a mission in Sakaar, or “an absolute nuclear shithole” as Carol called it, they had found an illegal foreign market. Of course, she had insisted they go in and to her absolute delight, they had a plethora of Terran foods. After spending an _ungodly_ amount of credits, she had made him try _everything._

_“Why does everything have an overwhelming taste of salt?” he had questioned as he munched cautiously on the food Carol had placed in his hand._

_“Because it makes everything better!” she had quipped back, elbowing him, “now be grateful! I’m sharing my Doritos with you because I’m so generous, plus they’re Cool Ranch, so you can quadruple that generosity!”_

_“What is that? Does that mean they should be cold? Because if so, they’re not.”_

_“Don’t worry about what it means, just eat them!”_

Steve had aided him in rummaging through the cabinets, pausing as Yon rambled off the dishes he remembered she liked.

“Okay, we have a lot of Oreos. What flavor does she like?”

“They were black and white I think?”

“Original then,” Steve concluded, “assuming she would like Double Stuff too. She’s got a sweet tooth?” 

Yon looked at him quizzically.

“She really likes sweets, foods that are bad for you?”

“Oh, yes, she does,” Yon agreed, “I would prefer she ate something more substantial, but I’ll take anything.”

“Why don’t you take her this too,” he instructed as he pulled a plate of food from the fridge, “Pepper made it for dinner. It’s _real food_ if you catch my drift.”

Yon had taken the plate and provided him a weak smile of gratitude in return. 

“I’m not hungry,” Carol responds.

“Come on,” he encourages, “you can have _anything_ you want. Just try something.”

She continues to stare blankly at the food laid out on the bed. He sighs and sits down in front of her. Leaning forward, he presses his forehead to her clavicle. He tenderly takes her hands into his, closing his eyes.

“I know this hard, I know. But plea-” he stutters with emotion, taking a minute to recompose himself, “please, just eat something. _For me_.”

After a minute, he gives up, utterly defeated. As he got up, her meek, flat voice stops him.

“I’ll share the Doritos with you.”

“Cool Ranch?”

* * *

Although primitive, Yon-Rogg couldn’t deny that Earth was beautiful. He appreciates the simplicity, the peace it holds as he sits on the patio of the compound, nursing a cheap and bitter Kyrlorian ale he had bummed off Rocket. Yet, the emptiness of the nature surrounding him invokes a bittersweet feeling now, eerie even. It was _too_ empty, _too_ quiet. 

“I’m assuming that’s stuff lethal for a little mortal like me?” Natasha asks as she slides the door shut and heads over to him.

“Probably,” Yon responds dryly.

“Damn, guess ‘trying alien liquor’ is gonna have to stay on my bucket list,” she chuckles with feigned enthusiasm. 

They settle into an indifferent silence with only the cicadas’ song and an occasional howl piercing the veil.

“How’s she doing?” Natasha questions quietly.

“As well as expected I suppose.”

She takes a seat in a nearby chair, “If she’s feeling guilty, she shouldn’t. You guys are the only ones in this whole situation who didn’t _fuck_ anything up. We were the irresponsible and childish ones who-”

“We lost our daughter.”

She looks up at him abruptly, her mouth slightly agape and eyes wide with shock. She tries a few times to find the right words to say, but she just can’t muster any up. Is there anything you can say that could fix _that?_ Finally, she responds feebly “I’m sorry. I know that probably means nothing, but truly I am.”

Yon nods without looking at her, his gaze kept on the landscape. Looking her in the eyes would mean that this was real, that Una was gone forever. 

“How -” Natasha swallows uneasily, “how old was she if I can ask?”

“Seven months.”

The air was heavy between them, the silence empty but simultaneously filled with so much: _shame, regret, painful longing._

“Look, I know you guys don’t know us” Natasha mutters, “and we probably haven’t given you the best first impression, you know, being at each other’s throats and all,” chuckling half-heartedly as to try and lighten the weight that that their fighting, their _selfish stupidity,_ now carried, “but at the end of the day, we are a _family_. We look out for each other, we’re _there_ for each other, no matter what. And now, you both are apart of that family too.”

She rose from her chair and approaches him with caution. When she comes face to face with Yon-Rogg, she meets his eyes with fierce conviction and pure sincerity pooled in her irises. Placing a gentle, yet somehow incredibly strong hand on his shoulder, she continues, “I know you both feel alone, but I want you to know that we are all here for you. Whatever you need, whenever you need it, we are always going to have your back. You’re _Avengers_ now and that means more than being a part of ‘ _Earth’s Mightiest Heroes.’_ It means that you just found a group of people who are going to stand by you through rain or shine, in the heat of battle or in the kitchen fighting over what’s for dinner, on Earth or…. _wherever_ you are from _._ ”

Yon has to suppress himself from breaking down entirely at the moment, physically willing his knees to straighten so they wouldn’t buckle under him. After a few seconds of blinking back tears, he is finally able to choke out a brief, but heartfelt “thank you.” 

Natasha gives him the slightest quirk of her lips, her eyes glossy, overwhelmed with her own sorrow. She grabs her beer from the table, which in the humid summer air has gone the slightest tinge warm, and finishes what’s left in the bottle. She trains her eyes to the sky. They’re able to fall back into a more mutual, comfortable silence than before. 

“You know,” she begins after a while, “I’m close - I _was_ close to Fury. He was someone who believed in me when no one else did.” 

“He was a good man,” Yon ponders. ‘ _Keyword was_ ,’ he thinks sourly, taking another swig of his drink. 

“You know, he had something that was labeled ‘ _return to Fury, or an intergalactic spacewoman who looks good in grunge.’_ Thought it was a joke, but I don’t think it’s a coincidence that Carol seems to check off both those boxes. And I just may know where to find it.” 

* * *

Yon entered their room holding a cardboard box warily, careful not to agitate it too much. As he crosses the room, Carol watches him with subdued curiosity, finding his slight uneasiness odd and out of character. Yon fills the empty space beside her and presents the package by placing it onto the mattress. She eyes it meticulously and swears she hears something rattling around inside. 

“Open it.”

Tentatively, Carol grabs the top flaps and lifts them. She’s not exactly sure what she was expecting, but certainly _not_ a tuft of orange fur. 

“Goose!” she exclaims. With a liveliness and spark he hasn’t seen in days, she lifts the Flerken from its paper prison and plops the pseudo-cat into her lap. The creature immediately recognizes her and leans into her tender touch, purring happily. 

“Where did you find her?” Carol wonders as she absentmindedly scratches Goose behind her perked ears. 

“I had help from a friend,” Yon responds vaguely as he settles himself next to her, cautious of ruffling the dangerous creature Carol so loves. She leans into him, snuggling into his shoulder. 

“ _Thank you,_ ” she mumbles.

Yon’s response is to press a delicate, loving kiss onto the crown of her head. 

They don’t speak for a long time after that. They’ve always had a bond that never needed words, a connection ingrained into their very DNA. They didn’t need to express their emotions, they could _feel_ each other's pain.

“We’re gonna be okay,” Carol says dazedly into the crook of his neck.

  
  


It tasted like a lie on her tongue and sounded like one in Yon’s ears.


	2. Reunion (Part I)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Re-un-ion/noun/:  
> an instance of two or more people coming together again after a period of separation; the act or process of being brought together again as a unified whole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was getting LONG and I decided to Just get the first part out there, so here it is! Please ignore any grammar errors and things of that nature, I’ll fix them later, but I couldn’t wait to get this out anymore. :)

The fight had been brutal, one of the most violent both Carol and Yon-Rogg had ever experienced.They had walked back, bruised and bloody, from the gruesome destruction, his arm around her waist to support Carol after her direct encounter with Thanos. There had been devastating sacrifices, Tony Stark and, they learned soon after, Natasha on Vormir, leaving the air thick with morbid grief, nearly making it impossible to draw breaths of it into their lungs. Nonetheless, adrenaline pumped through their deep-blue blood when the fog of the fight left their mind and the realization that everyone was back fully hit them like a blast to the chest.

_Everyone was back._

They knew that Una couldn’t have been on the ship, they would have seen her since they were on it when the Snap reversed. A quick hail to New Skrullos was a dead end, Talos had shook his head with haste, still locked in an embrace with the previously dusted Soren. It’s only after overhearing a man by the name of Clint conversing with his wife on a burner phone, confused about a fourth child with odd amber eyes reappearing with his family that they realize she wasn’t missing among the stars, but on world, in rural _Iowa_ of all places. A quick flight five states over with their unexpected passenger and they found themselves on a deserted farm and face-to-face with a beautiful, but weepy family running from the deck. Carol’s and Yon’s eyes immediately dart to a brown haired woman with warm eyes when they can finally see that she’s holding something, someone, _their_ someone. 

“I think this belongs to you,” she sniffles. 

Five muted years.

One thousand eight hundred twenty-five lonely days. 

Forty-three thousand eight hundred lifeless hours.

Two million six hundred twenty-eight thousand miserable minutes

One hundred fifty-seven million six hundred eighty thousand aimless seconds.

That’s how long they had grieved Una’s loss: how long they ached to see her glimmering golden eyes, to kiss her violet-hued chubby cheeks, to smooth back her wisps of blonde hair, to hear her hearty, squealing laughter ring in their ears. 

They knew as they took her into their arms, keening wails desperately leaving their lips and hot, fat tears running down their grin-wrinkled cheeks while she coos excitedly, reaching hopelessly for their faces, they didn’t have to crave anymore.   
  


* * *

After the decimation, Carol and Yon-Rogg never thought the ship could feel homely again. The _Zenith_ had been the witness to many milestones of their life together: their reunion years after the fall out with the Kree, their first kiss, all nine months of pregnancy, their first night as parents. Even if the tight quarters weren’t always ideal, it had always been a place that brought them nothing but happiness. Then Una was gone and things were never the same. The cruiser seemed _too_ spacious, _too_ quiet, empty in every sense of the word. They were convinced that whatever peace it once held, whatever love it had previously encompassed, was gone forever. 

But laying here on their worn and cramped bed, draped in knitted blankets from Monica, Una giggling happily between them as she tries to tug on her mother’s shortened locks while Yon tickles her belly, Goose rumbling a tired purr and warming their feet, they knew they were wrong.

“Do you think she still recognizes me with the haircut?”

“Yes Carol, I think she still knows you’re her mother even with the haircut,” Yon replies dryly. 

“Hey, babies are really sensitive to that kind of stuff! There are tons of videos of kids crying bloody murder after their dads shave off their beards,” Carol quips back playful as she carefully creates small golden sparkles with her fingers above Una’s head, her wide, curious eyes following the shimmer with wonder. 

“I think by the looks of it, you’re in the clear,” he concludes while brushing a few stray curly strands of the child’s flaxen hair from her forehead, placing a soft kiss to the space he created. 

Carol hums back distractedly, lazily drawing shapes and words of light for their engrossed daughter: a star, the glyph for the House of Rogg, the English word for _love._ They savor the languid tranquility of the moment, lounging lazily in blissful contentment they never want to end. 

  
  


“I don’t think I’m going to be able to sleep tonight,” she quietly confesses after some time. 

  
  


“You took a pretty big hit out there, you need to rest,” he counters back gently, ghosting over her side, which displayed a gnarly gash and a blooming, cloudy bruise hidden under an array of pain pads and gauze they had haphazardly applied once returning to the ship, with a feathery hand. 

“I _am_ resting, I’m just not _sleeping,_ ” she responds back mischievously, but he still doesn’t miss the slight grimace she makes when he hits a particularly tender spot on the ladder of her ribs. 

“You’re hurt,” Yon rebukes lightly, taking her battered hand into his larger, calloused ones. 

“Well, I’m hurt _and_ happy,” she concludes with frisky finality. He brings her bruised and burned knuckles to his lips.

“Very happy,” he mumbles into the abused flesh.

_“_ Very happy, _”_ she agrees, removing the hand from his loving grasp and instead preferring to gingerly caress his check. He meets her glossy eyes, crinkled with the softest upturn of her lips.

_“Very happy,”_ she restates again, leaning over to place a chaste kiss onto his lips before being interrupted as an especially noisy gurgle left their daughter. 

“Someone doesn’t like feeling left out,” Carol chirps whilst picking up Una to stop her needy fussing, Carol preferring to settle Una on top of her stomach. The moment she’s comfortable, Una tries to grab her mother’s face with unsteady, grubby hands, “so impatient, missy!”

“Just like someone else I know,” Yon retorts back swiftly, humor etched into all his features, from the slight furrowing of his brow to the folding at the corners of his mouth. Carol sticks her tongue out at him pettily. When Una tries to mimic the sassy action, Carol can’t help but let out a deep, genuine laugh. The sound rings in her like bells and nearly scares her because of how foreign it is. How long had it been since she had laughed like that? Like she didn’t have a care in the world, like everything was as it should be, like the stars were aligned, like she was _whole_?

She didn’t have to wonder, she knew the answer. 

“Like mother like daughter,” Carol coos to Una causing a shriek of pleasure from the praise.

“Oh Gods help me, I don’t think I can handle _two_ of you,” Yon sarcastically sighs, putting a hand to his forehead melodramatically as if to try and soothe a headache that hadn’t even reached his temples yet. 

“Let’s be honest, we’ve had you whipped since day one, commander.”

“Don’t I know it,” he says fondly. 

Goose stretches lethargically with a wide, soundless yawn, perhaps woken up due to the uncomfortable building heat under blankets. She slinks up slothfully with slow, over-accentuated movements, her sight on the new creature, close in size to herself, in her space. The Flerken wasn’t eying Una like she was prey, acting like a predator stalking its next meal, but more so in a curious manner due to this new creature. The feeling was mutual as Una’s mouth dropped open slightly and her eyes widened, lighting up like small Kyrolorian moons. Leaning towards her, she holds a tiny hand out trying to feel Goose’s soft auburn fur under her stubby fingers; Goose did her one better. Closing the space between them briskly, she first extended her neck to rub against her tiny legs before using Carol’s middle as leverage to warmly caress Una’s cheek with her face and nose. Goose purrs contentedly, satisfied with the affection, while Una squeals with joy, the prickly whiskers and smooth fur tickling her sensitive skin. 

“I don’t know how I feel about that…” Yon draws out warrily. He would never admit it, but the Flerken _still_ kept him on his toes. Carol didn’t know, but when they went on missions, he always locked the doors to their room and armory stash. He didn’t want to come back to find all his clothes missing (because Goose would _never_ take a thing from Carol, not even a single sock), or Gods forbid have half of their weaponry inventory stored in the contents of the Flerken’s stomach. 

“Oh come on, look at them! They love each other and besides, Goose could keep an extra set of eyes on this little wild child, you know how smart Flerkens are. Having a pet is a part of childhood,” Carol argues.

“Okay, what kind of pet did you have?”  
  


“A dog, golden lab named Chewie.”

“Exactly, you had a Terran dog, not a space creature that can protrude tentacles out of its mouth!”

“But look at this face,” Carol insists while shifting Una to sit between them, facing Yon. “Look at that smile, listen to those giggles, how can you say no to that?”

And of course, she was right. Una had a toothy grin (or at least, the toothiest grin she could manage seeing as she only had three teeth) and her belly was hiccuping with chime-like laughter. 

“Gods, you _do_ really have me whipped,” he groans, throwing an arm over his eyes.

Carol, choosing to ignore him, puts her focus back on Una. She was giddily stroking Goose's head with unstable, meek hands as the Flerken leans into the scratch, a rumbling vibrato hollowing from her chest, “you love Goose don’t you? I think Goose loves you, don’t you Goose?” Carol sings as she lets out a cursory meow, seemingly agreeing with the sentiment. “See, Goose says yes -” before being interrupted by another bout of incredibly coherent babbles.

“Goo- Go- Gose - Goose, Goose!” Una strings together happily, taking the mentioned Flerken’s face into her tiny palms while her parent look at each other with wonderstruck eyes, dumbfounded that the first word their daughter had ever spoken was not mama or papa, but the name of the _blasted Flerken_

“You have _got_ to be kidding me,” Yon mutters with a slight tinge of horror and annoyance.

“Good luck saying no now,” Carol grins. 

* * *

The ceremony had been scheduled only a days after the last fateful battle. Even with the numerous attendees of the ceremony, the event was quaint and sincere, somber with respect and gratitude to the man who made the ultimate sacrifice so everyone else could have everything, so they could have _their_ everything.

They vetoed being within the crowd, instead staying on the deck in case Una decided to let an untimely, fussy screech so they could make a quick escape if need be. Thankfully, she had made it to the end of the ceremony as Pepper released the bouquet onto the lake blissfully silent in her father’s arms, entranced with the buttons on his shirt. As the crowd began to disperse and they followed suit, they’re stopped by a slightly monotone voice behind them. 

“Well, well, well, you’re a little far from Kansas, Toto,” Fury states as he approaches them.

“Not too far though,” Carol says back smartly, taking him into a wistful embrace. “You should have paged me sooner,” she breathes while her arms still encircled around him.

“I know,” he responds with a rare hint of regret on the edge of his voice as he pulls away. “Hey spaceman,” he greets Yon, firmly shaking his free hand.

“Fury,” Yon responds as he shifts Una on his hip.

“And who is the little thing,” Fury uncharacteristically coos, offering her grasping hand his own, which she greedily takes. 

“Una-Rogg,” Yon responds as she leans out of his arms toward the newcomer, deciding to hand her off to him.

“Well hello there Miss Una-Rogg,” Fury chimes as Una plays with his eye patch curiously, “when’d you have time to pop out a kid during the apocalypse?”

“October 2017,” Carol replies curtly. Fury stares at her before he puzzles together what she just insinuated.

“She was-” but she nods her head slightly before he can mutter out the terrible reality.

For a moment, Fury gives them an unusual look of pity and regret before shaking it off and turning to the child in his arms again and saying, “well I guess that makes two of us then.”

After a few seconds of tense silence, Carol approaches him, grinning, “watch this, Una, who’s your favorite kitty?”

“Goose!” Una shrills as she slaps her palms on Fury’s jacket. 

“So _you’re_ who stole my Flerken,” he accuses teasingly.

“And you’d be lucky to get her back,” Yon jests back before mumbling lowly under his breath, “even if I wish you did.” 

“He’s not the biggest fan of the _fury beast,_ ” Carol adds mockingly before he slips an arm around her waist causing her to lean into his comforting touch. 

“I am a man of dignity, I wouldn’t take candy from a baby so I sure as hell won’t take a cat from one,” Fury declares. “Just remember not to mess with her unless you wanna end up with a patch of your own, little lady,” pulling his patch down as Una pulls it over his brow, getting an inquisitive glimpse of his scarred eye.

“Don’t worry, she’s not that foolish,” Yon smirks.

“Welp, we know she gets that from her mama, definitely not her papa,” Fury laughs handing the tot back to Yon, another guest joining them. 

“Fury,” she states matter of factly.

“Hill,” Fury mimics, “let me introduce you to the first aliens I ever had the pleasure of meeting, Carol Danvers and Yon-Rogg. Danvers, Rogg, Agent Maria Hill.”

“The owner of the mysterious pager,” Maria says slyly, “good to finally see who's on the other end, who’s the little bugger?”

“Una-Rogg,” Carol replies while shaking her hand, said girl attempting to grab at the lapels of Maria’s leather jacket, “careful, if she gets a hold of you, she may never let go!”

“Duly noted,” she retorts with a grin, “they’re starting lunch, we should go inside before Thor gets a hold of the good beer.”  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience, support, kudos, and wonderful comments! Things got a little crazy and I was a little down for a bit. But two days ago, I got the complete surprise that I WAS ACCEPTED TO MY FIRST UNIVERSITY and feel like I can finally breathe. Thanks for dealing with my anxious ass. Sending you all lots of love!
> 
> Xoxo,
> 
> M

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed. This is my first ever fanfic and I literally wrote it in one day so go easy on me lol. Let me know your thoughts on how I did, what you liked, what I could do better, you know the spiel. Also, I had some ideas on a reunion sequel, so I'm leaving the chapter number open-ended. Let me know if you would like to see more and what you'd be interested in!
> 
> PS. I didn't grammar check this because it's late so I'll be doing that tomorrow. Forgive my crimes and sins against the English language. 
> 
> XO,  
> M


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